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Ars Poetica - by Lily

NaNoWriMo; twitter poetry bytes

November 8th 2011 23:32
It's NaNoWriMo. It's November, the month where writers whip their muses into shape, hoping to write that novel or poem that will rocket them out of the slums of their life.

Today is the 9th of November, and by all hoops and porpoises I should have written 9 poems at twitter. Though 5 is nice, in that half of 10 kind of way.

But I'm always late, and never finish anything, so I'm right on track. Oh, the joy of self deception.

Disclaimer: poetic license.

January 2012 update edit: 16 altogether, a split of a nano over half of the goal. ok.


~*~

We broadcast the failures of others while hiding our own shames as they writhe and whisper; hypocrite, hypocrite.

~*~

I have brought an Opal, a fold out chair and a map to the portal. Let's get started.

~*~

A bookmark on a red song book. A tambourine lays silent. Angels collide.

~*~

They were bound by blood and parted by blood. Only a letting could save them now.

~*~

She exhaled rolling hills of wildflowers. The wind whipped up great scented swirls and swept them into foyers of city apartments.

~*~

Centre, find your equilibrium, lighten up and let go, a walk solves everything. She moved in & pushed her Chakra over.

~*~

The turnstile goes around and around and will trap you in itís death spin if you donít leap out. Your train arrives soon.

~*~

Her eyes drink in the moon, she returns to fill us with light - for @natashabadhwar

~*~

Wrap a curl around your finger, strew petals on handmade paper, weave a crown from stripped willow, sit on a swing, and remember.

~*~

She dangled her legs over the side of the pier and watched the far off waves travel & travel until they reached the little boys sandcastle.

~*~

The ghost man wavered at the top of the stairs waiting for her to go out, so he could read the letters she had written to him #ThePush

~*~

She found an angel with broken wings. She had always loved broken things, with their sharp dangers, keeping her alert, grounded.

~*~

She leaned near the sun bathed sapling. ĎI do not try to grow.í

~*~

Sing an old song, play dress ups, talk to the birds on the clothesline, peek over the back fence, make fairy bread.

~*~

NIGHT LEAVES: In a pale dawn sky, growing smaller and smaller, two black balloons.

~*~

Your sandy towel for my salty tears. An ocean roars behind the trickle.

~*~



excerpts from @myarspoetica, twitter


~lily © 2011


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Comments
1 Comments. [ Add A Comment ]

Comment by Always Eighteen

November 17th 2011 10:55
It's been a while (especially since I'm not often on twitter), but great to read you stuff as usual Lily.

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